Page 47 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

A small stuccoed bungalow from the pre-earthquake safety era served as the headquarters of the Refuge’s security team. Fred thought about introducing himself, but he didn’t know if the guards knew they were responsible for the daughter of America’s third richest man. Instead, he avoided that building and wandered through the compound, noticing hidden cameras scattered throughout.

In the medical wing, he joined a small group watching the newly arrived three-toed sloth. The creature huddled in the corner of its cage, ignoring the pile of leaves collected for it.

“We can’t keep it,” one of the techs was saying. “It belongs in the rain forest. It’s not warm enough here.”

“Rachel won’t send it away until it’s feeling better,” said another.

“It’s feeling bad because it’s cold. We need to put it on a plane to Costa Rica.”

“You tell the princess.”

Someone cleared his throat, and Fred caught an embarrassed look from the tech. “Didn’t see you there,” the guy said resentfully. He had long hair held back in a ponytail with a leather thong.

“Don’t mind me. I’ve never seen a three-toed sloth before. Just came to check it out.” Fred wasn’t surprised at the tech’s comment; everyone at the Refuge treated Rachel as if she was one step away from royalty. Conversations in the kitchenette stopped when she walked in. No one cracked a single joke about the skunk with the scent gland disorder. It seemed strange to him. He didn’t find her intimidating; why should they?

But the incident made him wonder how much she knew about the staff. When Rachel finished with her appointments for the day, he broached the subject while she locked up her office.

“Does the staff have to go through a security check?”

“Is the pope Catholic?”

“Hey. I’m just trying to be thorough.”

Rachel closed the front door, locked it, and went around back to the little fenced-in yard where Greta played during working hours. At the sight of them, Greta bounded across the grass in great leaps.

Fred persisted. “Kessler Tech owns this place, right?”

“Wrong. It’s a private nonprofit. Kessler Tech helps fund it. There’s a big difference.”

He flung up his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you.” After a pause, “What’s the difference?”

Rachel opened the gate and Greta rubbed against her legs with nearly orgasmic joy. “The Refuge was my idea. I had to fight for it. My father thought it was too risky. But I had some money left from my mother, and I lined up a board of directors, so Dad didn’t really have a choice.” She shot him a gleam of a smile as she lavished caresses on Greta’s head. “I’m a lot more stubborn than I look.”

Fred knew she was stubborn; he’d seen it in the limo. But he probably would have called it something else. Determined, or brave.

Rachel continued. “Dad eventually got on board, but he doesn’t really understand why animals mean so much to me. As long I leave the security to him, he leaves me alone.”

“So everyone gets vetted?”

She let out a huge sigh. “Up the ying-yang, yes.”

“And you trust them all? You’ve worked with them enough to be sure they’re safe?”

“What are you getting at?” She closed the latch of the gate and swung to face him.

“Well, I’ve been shadowing you for almost a week now. Your apartment building is more secure than the Pentagon. The only other residents are two elderly couples and a widow, all extensively vetted by the Kessler security team. Your car has bulletproof windows and a double-reinforced body. The big weak spot I see is this place.”

“It’s surrounded by an electrified fence and has twenty-four hidden cameras.” She waved her arms at their surroundings. A slight breeze made the leaves of the aspens quiver. A small olive-drab bird rose into the air, then landed with a flick of its tail on a fencepost. Fred had to admit that the Refuge seemed too peaceful to harbor any danger. “You’re being paranoid. Maybe Dad’s insanity is catching.”

She stalked away from him, followed by the capering Greta. He hurried after her. His intention wasn’t to tick her off, but he’d been hired to protect her, after all. These questions seemed important.

“What about when people bring in their pets, or injured animals? Do those people get checked out?”

“Yes! The security guards don’t let anyone in here unless they’ve gone through a weapons check.”

“But what about the staff? How well do you really know them?”

“Fred! I trust my staff. I don’t hire anyone who isn’t a hundred percent committed to helping animals. Now will you stop this?”

“I’m just trying to—”

“I know what you’re trying to do. Stop it … just stop it.” She reached the small gravel parking lot and started scrabbling through her purse. “Damn it.”

“Hey. Hey.” Fred gently took the purse from her and held it open so she could search inside. “Why are you so upset?”

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